


Goose Bumps

by marreena



Category: Mass Effect, Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Drabble, F/F, Fluff, Interspecies Awkwardness, Interspecies Introspection, longest relationship tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-08-10 21:50:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7862443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marreena/pseuds/marreena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her body shakes just a bit, urging her to continue running her talons up and down her back. Small bumps prick up on her skin, and she does not even attempt to remember what they were called—birds, something with birds that she thought her translator missed but Asha had quickly explained that no, that’s what they are really called.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Goose Bumps

**Author's Note:**

> some OCs for Andromeda 
> 
> also bioware better give me a female turian to romance

There’s something artistically to be said about human skin.

Not one part of it is uniform, with all these different bumps that don’t match each other. Not at all like a marking on an Asari, whose marking slowly develop through adolescence. No, Asha explained that her human markings are much different than those and are not genetic in most ways. 

Human skin changes, she explained. Flushed red means they are too hot—biologically at least, she said there are other emotional triggers—and a loss of color means cold—Pavra understood that. Although, Asha noted, that she herself, with darker skin will not show as much of that. Pavra had nodded, agreeably, but still thinking of how days ago Asha’s face had turned shades of red after perhaps two too many round in bed, or how her skin had gotten noticeably paler after their months aboard a ship and not on Palaven.

Even after she lets her talons drag across her skin, it changes just a bit—a rush of blood to the spot. Turian skin is too thick to show such small changes with their blood. A fact that drags deep within her.

Her talon catches on a small dark bump at the dip in her back. A mole. A result from over exposure to solar radiation. Many humans got them, she explained with a bit of a wry smile, although she had only just started getting them when she came to Palaven. The intense shielding that she was forced to wear constantly protected her from almost all of the radiation.

Pav wishes she had paid attention in the beginning when she met her to know which of the moles are old and which are a result from her home. She wants to know if the small fleck at the corner of her eye was actually a mole or—what did she call it?—a sunspot. A freckle. She wasn’t clear on the difference.

From there, the small bumps right below her ribs on her lower back grab her attention. A rash. A term that sits in the base of her throat teases her at the possible answer.

“Don’t stop,” she hums in a way that humans do after spending so much time with Turians. They try to make up for the lack of sub harmonics in their own way, which Pavra appreciates unlike some other of her people might. The soft noises that rumble deep within her continue until she can feel it through her talons. It’s intoxicating. 

The movement of her turning to face her shows the bones and muscles moving underneath her thinner skin, and she watches it until brown eyes meet her own green ones. Her hair is a mess atop her head, hastily pulled back last night when she was letting the sweat—something also very human—evaporate and chill her skin, curls falling out and framing her face. The softer fringe that provides no more uses than _aesthetic beauty_  is something she got used to. 

Her body shakes just a bit, urging her to continue running her talons up and down her back. Small bumps prick up on her skin, and she does not even attempt to remember what they were called—birds, something with birds that she thought her translator missed but Asha had quickly explained that _no, that’s what they are really called_.

“Asha,” she lets the word go through every part of her vocal cords, and it is absolutely saturated in extra tones and meanings without her even meaning to. 

Her object of affection just lets out a breathless laugh and her skin on her back draws tight again when she puts her arms underneath herself and pushes up. She crawls clumsily until she hovers over Pavra—arms on either side of her head and legs brushing spurs, and then she slowly lowers her. A guttural human groan works it way through her when her breasts just barely brush her flat chest. Pebbled nipples skate over the roughened hide and tease her as she continues to lower herself until she is fully laying on top of her. 

It’s not that comfortable for either party, but she can feel the flutter of her heart through that thin skin and the heat that irradiates from her body. 

Her eyes droop just a bit in teasing, fluttering eyelashes and she presses a kiss to her mouth, and even though she can’t reciprocate in the _right, human way_ , she opens her mouth and lets her tongue flick and trace. Another moan is forced through her cords shaking both of them. 

Asha laughs and pulls away, a teasing smirk playing on her lips, “You think Ryder is up yet?” 

“When isn’t she?” 

“She did get knocked out yesterday for a good half hour while we were down."

“Probably got enough sleep for the week then,” there is an underlying worry to her words, but neither comment on it. They’ve had _that_  conversation plenty of times. Asha sighs and finally pulls away from Pavra to put on just a towel and make it to her designated shower time. “You working on the translator again today?” she asks even as she goes around the room to collect the proper toiletries that honestly seem like way too many—there’s so much care that goes into humans. The chemistry of human bodies is just too finicky. 

She nods and gets out of the bed herself, pulling on her dress, and unlike Asha's sometimes extensive morning routine, is done after making sure to clean her mouth. The last time she had gotten too frisky with her and didn’t clean up afterwards earned her an embarrassing swollen tongue and throat for the entire day. 

They both leave for the bathrooms together, and not many people are up yet. It’s mostly just those who are on last shift and some who have still not adjusted to the time table that an Alliance ship runs on. Asha’s hand just barely brushes hers when she parts to the shower and her to the toilets, one last smile ghosting on her lips.

**Author's Note:**

> this is entirely self indulgent but lmao when am i not


End file.
